A Different Story
by LenkaJeneva
Summary: What if Voldemort wasn't defeated that fateful night? And no, it wasn't because Harry had died or anything, it was a bit more simple: Sirius was being his usual hot-headed self, and somehow convinced the Lily to let him take Harry out trick-or-treating.
1. Chapter 1

**What if Voldemort wasn't defeated that fateful night? And no, it wasn't because Harry had died, he didn't spare the boy or anything else like that, it was a bit more simple than that – Sirius was being his usual hot-headed self. And somehow, Lily would probably claim the imperious, Sirius managed to convince James and (most importantly) Lily to allow him to take their little child out on that old muggle holiday that Lily had talked about: Trick or treating.**

**It's simple as 2+2 – Harry wasn't home that night.**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

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"Away… Step away from the–" The black haired man made an odd slashing motion through the air as he peaked out the window. "That's fine leather you stupid little–"

"Any reason you're currently in our living room and cursing some," James peaked out the window in order to see what the man was looking at, "_kid_ to high heavens?" Incredulously (or maybe predictably, it was well known that Sirius hated children, except, perhaps, his godson) he was cursing a child, maybe around nine years old, who was a little bit too close to his precious motorbike.

Sirius stared mutinously out the window before backing away from it, nearly bumping into James in the process. Both men turned around from the window. James glanced at Sirius in bemusement, "So?"

"So what?" He glowered at him defiantly, "That kid is one step away from ruining a perfectly good paint job!"

"Any reason that the great Sirius Black decided to grace us with his presence? I thought he'd be working with all the big boys now – which surprising considering you still seem to need a babysitter half the time."

"Which makes me question your sanity Lils," Sirius tilted his head a bit to get a better look at the red-head, "seeing as you usually get me to be the babysitter to that handsome little kid right there. Do I get a hug?" He cooed, sidestepping James as he took a swipe at the mans head and walked toward the mother and son standing in the doorway.

Lily allowed the man to lift the toddler out of her arms, brushing her hands against her apron as the "great Sirius Black" fussed over the fifteen month old. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, an old apron that her mother had given her thrown hastily on over her clothes (only an old pair of jeans and a soft green shirt that James _insisted_ matched her eyes); she knew that she didn't look her best today, but they weren't planning on going anywhere anytime soon, and with all the messes that Harry managed to make, well, this, at least, would make it less clothes for her to wash.

"So, I'll repeat the question for that Darling over there," James tossed a wink at the redhead in bemusement, "any reason you're here now?"

The Black glanced up from the Eskimo kiss he was giving to the innocent child; Harry, noticing the lack of attention, grabbed a clump of his godfathers hair to chow on, "No reason at all," Sirius said, attempting to dislodge Harry's hold on his hair, "A guy is allowed to just up and visit his friends, isn't he? I mean, I just missed Lils' beautiful face – I could've lived without yours for a while more though Prongs."

"That is true," Lily laughed, overriding James' grumbling as she took her child back from his godfather, his hair falling out of the boy's mouth, "we just thought that you had to go to work today."

"Apparently," Sirius maneuvered around James once again to plop down onto their sofa, "Benjy Fenwick wanted more hours so he took mine, didn't want to risk his life out on the field for once either, which I can understand…" He tiredly rubbed his eyes.

Lily sighed, sitting on the caquetoire across from him. And she somehow managed to calm Harry down enough to sit quietly on her lap. James plonked down beside him.

"That's easy enough to understand." James said gruffly.

Sirius nodded, staring listlessly at the burning embers in the firebox, just beside Lily. He could understand Benjy Fenwick's sudden desire to stay as far away from the field as possible, the man didn't want to leave his mother behind, his widowed mother whose husband died not days ago.

That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

"So…" A mischievous grin spread across his face, dissipating the tense silence of the room, "Halloween, huh?"

James laughed at Lily's answering groan, "I can't believe you remembered that…"

"Yeah, I thought I saw a few more robed witches than usual on the roads today, and all of them young witches too, but sadly none my type…"

"They wouldn't have happened to be too young for you, huh, Padfoot?"

"Course Prongs, have you ever seen me turn down a healthy, young woman in need?"

"You two are disgusting," Lily cried out laughing, she grabbed the first thing she could find (unfortunately only a throw pillow) and threw it at the two men.

James caught it before it could hit him and wacked Sirius upside the head with it, "Yeow! Watch it Prongs, what it is, pick on Sirius day?"

"Until you tell us why you're here…"

"And I said–"

"We know what you said," the redhead cut across, "it's the believing it that's the problem, and after that Halloween comment…" She raised a delicate eyebrow.

Sirius laughed nervously at her expression, "Well… you know… it's a holiday and all that… good picture opportunities… and uh… fresh air?"

"Do you think you could expand a little on that Sirius?" James politely asked, or it would've been polite if he hadn't raised the throw pillow at him threateningly once more. Sirius swatted his hand away.

"What I think he's trying to say," Lily steadfastly ignored the two's antics, "is that he wants to take Harry out Trick-or-Treating."

"Harry can't go outside," James answered promptly, "It's too dangerous, and…" He paused a moment, a blush crossing his features, "uh… what's a trick-or-treating?"

"It's a muggle tradition that they do every Halloween where they go door-to-door and ask for candy," Sirius said swiftly, "What!" He exclaimed at their shocked faces, "I actually listened during classes, believe it or not."

"And you still continue to surprise us."

"I don't think its safe…" James said, putting an effort in to ignore Lily's astounded face, a grin threatened to break across his face regardless.

"Come on!" Sirius threw himself at James (rather awkwardly, seeing as they were sitting side by side) and managed to land half on him, half off. One of his legs was hanging off the couch, the foot resting by the door, while the other leg took up where Sirius had only been sitting a moment ago; and his hands clasped on his robes, his body lying clumsily on his side, "Please!"

"Really Siri? That's the best you can do?" James inquired, raising his own eyebrow, he untangled Sirius' hands from his robes, "You're going to have to do better than that."

"It'll give him some fresh air," Sirius said tantalizingly, "You don't want him to spend the rest of his life in some stuffy old house. And he might be able to meet kids his own age…"

"He's got Neville," Lily pointed out. She personally didn't see a point to such a risk.

"And how often to they see each other?" Sirius scoffed. "Once a month? Every other month?"

"It's difficult times Padfoot," James said, as if he didn't already know that, "We can't exactly set up play dates with a bunch of kids everyday."

"I know that," he argued wearily, "but we can't just have him grow up in fear, in seclusion; I mean, I care for him just as much as you guys do, it's just that, he has to," he grunted, making an odd, sporadic gesture with his hands.

The Potters, at least, seemed to understand what he wanted to say. Except for little Harry Potter who was watching the proceedings in a bored fashion, through half-lidded eyes, and leaning up against his mother, still wearing his footie pajama's that his mummy seemed to enjoy. They had little duckies on them.

"Neither do we," Lily said finally, breaking eye contact with her husband, "But Harry's safety is much more important at the moment, and with the Dark Lord after our tails…"

She shrugged helplessly.

"It wouldn't be for too long, just an hour or two – or whenever Harry begins to get fussy! He could dress up in one of his wizarding robes, and I could conjure up a mask, for both of us, so no one would recognize us! And we'd have Harry's emergency portkey on us at all times; it'd take us straight to Hogwarts – to Dumbledore! And we'd be in a village fairly far away, just a random one! Or one close to where Remus lives! Anything happens, Remus is just down the street! Come on Prongs! Mrs. Prongs! Little Prongslet needs to be _free_! Free as a _bird_!"

"Free as a bird?" James asked in bemusement, Lily tightened her hold on her son, "Last I checked, Harry's human, not a bird."

"You know what I mean though!"

"I know, but, what if, death eaters…"

"Portkey! Dumbledore! Remus! Masks! I could come up with others if you'd like!"

"_Sirius_…" Lily moaned, she loosened her grip on her son as she felt his squirm in her hold, "That's all well and good, but it's still a huge _risk_ – and Harry isn't hold enough to defend himself, he can barely _walk_."

"And I realize that," the man stood up, brushing a hand through his hair as he'd seen James do a number of times, those bloody ass habits rubbing off onto other people, "but Voldemort won't think that he'd be out, with some heir for one of the dark families in an old muggle village!"

"That is true…" James muttered helplessly.

"And anyway, it'd be death eaters if we actually ran into anyone, I mean, what would Voldemort want with some little baby?" The Black heir caught an uneasy look pass between the two Potters.

He quirked a brow.

"I suppose one night wouldn't hurt…" Lily said slowly, "but you'd need to be back by eight o'clock – on the dot, and I mean it Sirius; one small whiff of what _may_ or _may_ _not_ be Death Eaters and you're out of there."

Sirius proceeded to do a small victory dance, "Yes! I promise! Yes!" He grasped Lily's arms, and danced her around the room.

James quickly took hold of Lily before she could either (A) kill him or (B) drop Harry.

Either way, Sirius would've been dead in the end.

"We'll be perfectly safe," Sirius said, his eyes shown brightly, turning to beam at his godson, "don't you worry, and maybe we'll even visit Uncle Wormtail on the way home."

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**I'll continue this soon, this was an idea that I liked, and I've had it churning in my head for a while. I've finally got it down on paper.**

**Please Read and Review - I'd love to read your comments or suggestions**


	2. Chapter 2

**And here's the continuation of _A Different Story_! I know, I tried to come up with a different title, but that's not really my strong suit. This chapter is shorter than the first, upsettingly, but I think it's still pretty good. I'll have the next chapter up soon.**

**And, once again, I don't own Harry Potter. I wish I did, but sadly, that cannot be.**

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Sirius sighed wearily as he hefted the child up onto his hip once again. He really didn't understand why he refused to bring the stroller with him – it'd have been so much easier.

"_Oh_! He's so cute! Is he yours?"

He gave the woman a drained smile, "Godfather," he said shortly, "I decided that he needed a day out on the town."

"That's so sweet," the woman cooed. She had a small brown haired two year old wobbling around behind her. Sirius felt the beginning of a head ache forming.

It wasn't because of the woman; no, he'd just met her a few seconds before. You tend to see a lot of people while trick-or-treating apparently. He probably should've known that. He'd had to approach a dozen strange houses, greet the homeowners, say that bloody catchphrase, get the candy, and go.

After the first twenty some houses, it got old.

And now here he was, his arms like lead, supporting the child in his arms, and standing in front of a young woman, maybe in her early thirties. She seemed sweet, he'll give her that. Brown ringlets falling in her chocolate colored eyes, a thin black dress on her person, and, if Sirius was correct, fangs on he teeth. She was either a vampire or pretending to be a vampire.

Sirius hoped it was the latter.

"What's he supposed to be?"

"A wizard." He answered swiftly. He glanced at the boy in his arms, a rush of affection welling up for him, no matter how much his arms hurt at the moment. Harry was dressed in one of his best wizarding robes, ones that Sirius assumed belonged to James when he had been a child. They were red – Gryffindor colors, James had boasted proudly – with a gold lining around them, successfully covering his ducky pajama's that Harry hadn't wanted to get out of. "I figured he'd like to be Merlin for the day."

She cooed at that, grasping her bushy haired child's arm before she could wobble away. "My little Greek Hermes was an angel earlier; she's only just come back."

Indeed, the girl was wearing a homemade dress (so it seemed) with a pair of golden wings on her back.

"I'm afraid she's got her fathers hair though," the woman sighed miserably. "I couldn't do anything with it."

He laughed, setting Harry down on the ground as the woman fussed with the girl's hair. The boy staggered over to the girl's side, tugging on the stand of hair that the mother was fussing with, Sirius snorted in amusement. "Br'n!"

"Good job buddy." He scooped the boy back up before the girl could hit him. "Sorry about that," he directed to the woman, as Harry pulled at Sirius' own black hair, "he has an odd fascination with hair."

"I can see that," she said, clearly entertained. "But I suppose you'd like some candy now then? I've held you up enough."

"Yeah," Sirius tried to keep the relief out of his voice as he glanced at his watch. It was nearly eight. The brown-haired woman grasped the bowl on the table beside her, one hand on her daughters shoulder, and gestured for the man to take one. "Thanks," he replied, lifting a black and red Mars Bar and placing it within his bag. "Have a Happy Halloween."

"H'ppie Hall'wen!" The young girl replied, smiling toothily, Harry attempted to copy her. The mother laughed, closing the door as he turned to walk down the street.

The head just didn't seem to want to go away…

"How 'bout we go and visit Uncle Wormtail before we head home hmm?" He asked Harry, the toddler just burrowed his face in the mans neck. "We've still got ten minutes left."

Harry didn't seem to want to move from his position, which was fine with Sirius. It'd make him easier to fly with by far.

Which was another reason he was glad that he'd decided to walk in a circle in this particular town; they'd managed to get enough candy to last them a month and by the end, they were back at the beginning, where his bike was.

And it was, thankfully, still in good shape.

…Especially after that one _bloody_ snot-nosed brat decided that it'd be fun to play with. His eye unintentionally twitched. He'd remembered to put a notice-me-not charm on it this time when he'd park it. And he fully intended to put that charm on the bike each time.

Stepping into the alley, he looked both ways before approaching the bike, bringing the wards down wandlessly.

Harry didn't notice a thing.

Sirius shifted the boy slightly as he climbed onto the bike. He kept one hand on the child's back as he turned out of the alley, the boy had his arms wrapped around his godfather's neck as the cold air hit his back and one hand clasped a lock of the inky hair.

They were only a few minutes away from Peter's house, and Sirius had promised to check up on him anyway. He needed to be sure that everything was okay, for Peter's sake and the Potter's sake.

The cool wind blew in his face and Sirius was glad that he'd placed the warming charm on the toddler.

It wouldn't be good for anyone if Harry got a cold.

"Just a few minutes," he cooed, stealing a glance at Harry's emerald green eyes before looking back at the road. "We'll see Uncle Peter and then head back home."

But he couldn't get rid of that growing worry in his head. He felt _something_ bubble in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't help glancing at the toddler every few seconds, as if to assure himself that he was still there, still breathing, still moving…

He sped up.

Pulling on the handle once he was sure that they were away from humanity, he flew through the air, going faster, holding the boy against his chest as he sped toward Grimsby, toward Peter…

With a lurch, he landed, the small child beginning to cry at the unpleasant sensation.

"Shh… it's okay Hare-bare." The boy didn't stop, and Sirius was vaguely surprised that Peter didn't come running out to see why Harry was here. He could be sleeping, it was a well known fact that Peter slept like a log… _But at eight at night_ the little voice whispered cynically in his ear.

He shakily walked down the worn path, his bike left on, passing over the fallen leaves on the ground. He knocked on the door as he approached it. "Peter!" He shouted over Harry's cries, bouncing the boy to calm him down. "Peter, open up!" But nobody opened the door. The wood the only thing barricading them from inside the house, but even that was worthless as the door opened soundlessly. His unease ten-folded

"Peter?" His voice rose a pitch, glancing worriedly around the room. Nothing was out of place in his four roomed house. Each thing, right down to the parchment was deftly put back into its place.

Sirius stumbled out of the sitting room, glancing into the kitchen. No food was out, no Peter.

And a thorough search of the bedroom and bathroom led to nothing but a spotless countertop and a well-made bed.

This wasn't like Wormtail at all. He wouldn't just get up and go for a walk in these times. And even if he did, nothing would be this… _spotless_.

Sirius raced back outside, stumbling over the coffee table leg in his hurry.

Harry continued to cry.

"It'll be okay baby," he soothed, not slowing his pace. He applied a sticking charm to the child and reapplied the warming charm. He almost wanted to eat up his words as the child sniffled, stopping his cries to look up at him questionably. He didn't believe it one bit.

"It'll be okay," he repeated, climbing onto his bike and kicking it off into the air.

Sirius didn't know who he was trying to convince anymore. Harry or himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Third chapter up! I hope you enjoy, read and review and all that good stuff. And thank you to all my reviewers! I'm glad you like the story! I'll try to get the next chapter up soon!**

**And I don't own Harry Potter.**

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"Merlin, _no!_" His voice caught in the back of his throat, watching the green haze slither in the distance. Horror unfolded in his gut as he descended his bike. "_No!_"

The motorbike landed roughly on the ground, causing the slumbering child to shift in his sleep.

Sirius took no notice to this as he sped down the road.

The home that he approached looked no worse for wear as he parked outside the gates, it looked just as it usually did, right down to the very last flower that Lily had insisted that James help care for. But it was enveloped in a green haze, a snake slithering within a skull, looking every inch as a toxic cloud.

His breath hitched.

They had to be alright. They just _had_ to be. James had promised, he'd told him that he'd stay, that they'd stick together till the end.

_This couldn't happen._

It wasn't allowed.

He slid off the bike, sprinting toward the house as he left his bike running. It didn't matter anymore. He was worrying over nothing, imagining things, hallucinating. He'll open the door and James would be laughing his ass off, as Lily attempted to maim him for bringing her baby home late. Both would be dressed in their pajamas, the worry sliding off their face as Sirius walked in the door–

But it wasn't going to happen. He was fooling himself, but…

He slid the door open. James laid there, glassy eyes staring skyward. It looked as though he was only star gazing, just like they used to do when they were young. The four of them had sat in the Forest, the Forbidden making all that more sweet, to watch the stars; more than once they'd attempted to join the centaurs, thought it'd be funny.

But James didn't blink, he didn't turn to laugh at some stupid UFO he was so fond of saying he found. He just lay there, head facing skywards, arms apart, his one leg twisted at an odd angle.

Fear flooded his senses, "James," he wasn't allowed to be dead, "James," he wasn't allowed to die, "_James_," he wasn't allowed to leave Sirius alone like this.

He stumbled forward, staring, not really seeing, Harry clutched tightly to his chest.

Shaking hands moved forward toward the mans neck. Sirius left them there, hoping, praying, but nothing happening; no pulse, no squealing that it was ticklish, nothing…

"_No_." Sirius' breathing accelerated, he'd wake up soon, knocked out from when Lily whacked him upside the head for even suggesting that he take her little baby out in the cold, dark, night… _Lily_…

If anything, Lily was smart enough. James wouldn't have died if he wasn't sure that Lily was safe.

Sirius just hoped that the numbness wouldn't leave.

He took careful steps away from his friend's glassy eyes, if he didn't see it, it wasn't there. If he didn't witness anything, he'd be perfectly fine in a few minutes.

Yeah, that was it.

He climbed the steps slowly, his mind whirling, but not thinking. No, it would hurt to think. Lily would think for him, she'd always said that she'd make all the decisions, she'd decide – she didn't trust his judgment, she'd said; time and time again, she'd told him that.

And she would tell him again. Tell him he was stupid, that James was fine… _sleeping, only sleeping_…

The house was too quiet.

"Lily," he whispered. It seemed as though the walls made his voice echo in the hallway. The stairs stood behind him, the photos lined the walls around him, and the door that led to the nursery was thrown open, a large crack down the center. As if he didn't care who died.

Sirius glanced down at the sleeping child. He held him close, horrified, mystified, and took a step into the little boy's room.

It looked nearly exactly how it always looked besides the door. The stars were shining in the ceiling, hiding the inky green haze that covered the rest of the house, they were Harry's nightlights. Lily thought them adorable. And his favorite toys were lined up on his dresser, the rest stashed in the toy box by his crib.

But now the small white crib was charred, the door broken in two, his dresser drawers thrown open in a haste, clothing hanging out, and Lily, poor little Lily flower, lay in front of the crib. Her hair looked like spilt blood, her green eyes just as glassy as her husbands, and her wand lay on the ground a few feet away.

Sirius couldn't take his eyes off her, reality starting to creep in on the numbness, the blindness that curled around his senses, and he held onto it, just a little longer…

He walked around her, an odd foreboding made him lean to look into the crib, Harry clutched tight to his chest. His breath caught in his throat.

If he hadn't been holding Harry at the moment… A doll lay in where Harry usually slept. It was transfigured hastily, a mess of inky hair, green eyes, just a quick, none too good, transfiguration. But Harry's favorite blanky was thrown back, burnt at the edges, a large charred hole in the middle, obscuring the inscription that Lily's mother had written as soon as Harry was born. The doll itself had a charred scab above its eerily green eye. Several slash marks marred its surface before–

Sirius stumbled back. It turned, facing him, a jarring expression on the twisted face of his godson. Its green eyes blinked, its mouth curved, and Sirius felt the need to run. "_You're next_."

He turned and dashed out the house, horror enveloping him. James, Lily, little Harry…

He grasped his godson tightly, leaping out of the house, not turning back, not wanting to see those glassy eyes again, not wanting to see that bloody hair, his godsons, Harry's…

Leaping onto the bike, he revved it up, leaving. He couldn't stay here. They'd be back. And he'll be damned if he let them take Harry from him, if he let them kill either of them…

And Peter, little, innocent Peter… Anger surged up through him. Peter would pay. Sooner or later, Peter would _pay_.

Now, it was only a matter of leaving.


	4. Chapter 4

**It's taken a while for me to update this story; I **_**finally**_** got around to it. And yes, James and Lily did die; I figured that it would have been difficult for them to escape, because I don't believe it was because of Harry that they didn't escape last time. In my opinion, there were probably anti-apparation wards; they didn't know how to make a portkey, or something similar to that nature.**

**But that's just in my story at the very least.**

**And I hope to update again soon, this wasn't my favorite chapter, but… it's something. And the "hastily transfigured doll" from the last chapter **_**will**_** come back, and it **_**does**_** mean something.**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

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His motorbike sputtered in the air. "God_damn_ it!" Sirius slammed his hand against the right handlebar, jerking the bike sideways with his exclamation.

Harry's cries soon joined the silent night.

Sirius only held his godson tighter, landing the motorbike rather roughly onto the ground as he blinked furiously, trying to wake himself… to convince himself to wake at Remus' kitchen, laughing at the dream… to get that _bloody wetness out _of his_ eyes!_

But no, it didn't work. The young man merely stood off the side of the road, in the middle of no where, with the small fifteen month old child screaming at the top of his lungs at his godfathers (_scratch that – guardians_) care.

He still didn't know what James and Lily had been thinking when they –

He choked on another sob.

"We've got to go baby…" But he didn't move. He continued to sit on his bike, Harry screaming himself to sleep as he stared listlessly into the toddler's inky black hair…

Sirius knew enough to know that he wouldn't be high profile. People would watch out for him, probably attack him if they knew (not that they didn't anyway, nearly anyone would attack any Black that they came across, Sirius couldn't blame them), but they wouldn't actively look for him. And Harry would be declared missing and shoved into some back closet in the ministry. They wouldn't deal with some missing kid when people were dying left and right, when muggles were coming so much closer to the truth…

"We've got to…" They had to leave. Even if no one would actively look for him (except maybe Remus who would be after his blood), sitting still right after the attack was _stupid_.

And Sirius conveniently pushed the thought of that doll-like Harry from his mind. The words, echoing and strange, not like Harry's usual child-like babble…

He could ponder that another time, another place…

For now, he had to go. "I'll have enough for a few miles." Sirius muttered to himself, making sure that Harry was still secure before revving his bike back up. The gas would suit him well for the next few miles, until he had to stop for more – hopefully they'd make it to a town in time.

Not that he had much hope for that.

Thankfully, the child fell into a listless sleep under the rumbling over the motorbike. His wails turned into silent breaths – the headache that'd been forming behind Sirius' eyes began to recede somewhat as he pushed the recent events out of his mind.

He'd not be able to actively fight against Voldemort anymore, that was for sure.

But, besides that, he didn't, _couldn't_, understand… well… anything, really. It hurt.

_Why_ did he want James and Lily? What was that look that the two of them shared only earlier that night…?

But that hurt… James and Lily… dea– but he couldn't. Admitting it would make it real. He couldn't make it real. It wouldn't help. If anything it'd hurt. It'd hurt Harry, it'd hurt himself…. He couldn't admit it.

James wasn't allowed to die.

James wouldn't die unless he was sure Lily would be okay. That Harry would be…

But they both knew that Harry was with him. Harry was safe, for all intents and purposes… He was away… and… _"You're next…"_

He was thinking.

He couldn't think.

"_Harry_…"

That's all that mattered now.

"We'll be there soon," he muttered softly, gathering his thoughts, expelling his thoughts. He'd think on them another time. He'd stop crying soon. He'd stop hurting soon.

He could see the buildings in the distance.

With a new sense of direction, he continued on. It'd only take a few minutes; he had enough gas to make it to the town, hopefully to the next gas station. And he had enough money on his person to lay low here for a few days before he had to stop for more galleons.

He'd have to exchange some more galleons for pounds too.

But that was later; he'd have to wait at least a month for everything to calm down. And that was only if nothing large happened, nothing that would distract the wizarding community to its core. It wouldn't be surprising if it did. Large muggle killings, getting more creative, more _brutal_, by the minute were occurring.

The buildings were closing in.

Sirius realized with a start that it was London. He hadn't realized that he'd flown for that long… Harry barely made a peep the entire ride… but a small sneeze brought his attention back to his godson and he worriedly applied another warming charm. "You okay bud?" He refused to acknowledge the fact that his voice broke.

But the child only giggled, not knowing that his father was dead, that his mother wouldn't sing to him any longer… Harry pulled at Sirius' hair.

If he remembered right, there would be a gas station at the next street over. Only a few minutes away, thankfully.

He turned that direction with ease, following the road, the buildings flying by them. Harry wriggled in his grip, but the sticking charm held true, keeping him pressed against his godfather's chest. That didn't manage to calm the boy's whimpers as he attempted to move away from the man, to the ground, to play…

Harry cried into the night once again.

He approached the gas station, its neon light glowing in the otherwise dark night. And the strange glances and talks of "you shouldn't drive a _kid_ on a motorcycle," Sirius just about had it.

And Harry still hadn't stopped crying.

And they needed a place to stay.

He sincerely hoped that it wouldn't be like this the entire week.


	5. Chapter 5

**A new chapter! Finally! Sorry that it took so long, but... well... I have no excuse, I'm lazy.**

**Personally, it's not my favorite chapter, and I'm hoping to have another chapter out soon, and if it seems to skip around slightly, I've met for it to do that, it's theoretically from Sirius' perspective and after his best friends death, I feel that his brain would be fairly muddled.**

**Please Read and Review!**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

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"Come on Harry," Sirius cooed softly, "open your mouth for Uncle Padfoot, c'mon, you can do it…"

He showed the boy the spoonful of baby food (slosh that Sirius didn't blame Harry for not wanting to eat) as the boy turned his head away in dismay, mouth locked shut.

"C'mon Baby, Hare, C'mon it's good, you like this stuff don't ya'? Lilsie…" He trailed off, the thought vanishing as a lump formed in his throat.

His godson looked at him hopefully. "Ma?"

The lump in his throat seemed to get painfully large as he shook his head, placing the spoon back into the jar. "No Hare," he said, shaking his head, "no Ma."

"Ma," the child demanded, pushing the jar of baby food away from him. It scratched against the tiled kitchen floor where they both currently sat, Sirius not comfortable enough with the thought of Harry on a chair and lacking the child's old high-chair. Harry looked up once again, hopefully, "Da?"

A sob escaped him, "No Da either Hare," he whispered, scooping up the spoonful and offering to the child. After a moments pause he dutifully swallowed the gunk that Sirius had managed to buy.

Harry managed to willingly eat two more spoonfuls before he spedfastly began to ignore the food that his godfather was trying to feed him.

Sirius, realizing that that was all he'd get out of the boy, let the spoon fall to the floor. It fell with a loud clunk, surprising the child in front of him. He scooped the boy up, settling him on his lap as he buried his face in Harry's hair.

Harry tugged on a stray lock of his godfather's hair. "Paf?"

"It'll be alright," the animagus whispered after a moment, repeating himself from mere hours before. "We'll be fine."

He spoke with a strange conviction, a conviction that Sirius wasn't even sure that he felt.

But Harry was alive, Harry was fine–

_"You're next…"_

–and everything would work out.

"Are you ready for bed Hare?" He asked roughly as the child began to squirm in his hold. The kid paused, looking up at him as if to say _'do you think I am?'_, but Sirius ignored the squirming child, carrying him to the small bedroom.

It wasn't a bedroom per say, but there _was_ a rather comfortable bed shoved off in the corner, piled high with pillows, a couch was at the other end of the room, with one of those muggle television-thingers in front of it.

The hotel room was small, expensive, but it would last the next two weeks.

Maybe. Hopefully.

He would have to find a new crib within the next week… maybe day… what were those protective spells that Lil– that Lily had drilled into his head? Something about _wing_– err… no. That's a first year spell…

Sirius set the now silent boy onto the bed, wrestling his hair away from Harry's fingers (_how_ they got there he didn't know…), and reached back to grab a stuffed animal before he paused. That small collection of stuffed animals that Lily had found were left scattered across Harry's room, a couple charred and burned and left out to dry.

And that one black dog that Sirius had bought his godson was locked away in his motorbike's seat. Along with the emergency diaper system that James had given him. And his house keys. And his potions. And virtually everything else that he may need to make it through the day.

"Sleep Baby," he soothed, running a hand through the boy's hair, green eyes watching him through half-lidded eyes.

Sirius climbed up beside the toddler, curling around the toddler, allowing Harry's hair to tickle the underside of his chin.

He wouldn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. He didn't _want_ to sleep.

Smoke was billowing under the door.

Sirius stared blearily at it in a moment of confusion, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Why was smoke coming into his flat again? Did the jukebox in the bar downstairs finally blow?

He allowed himself a moment's reprieve, closing his eyes and pushing his face into his godson's messy mane that they call hair–

… Why was his godson in his flat?

He sat up with a jolt, Harry sleeping quite peacefully in the bed before him, but smoke was billowing into the room, people were screaming, smoke was….

"Damn it." A fire. Just what he needed.

He scrambled up on the bed, grabbing one of the pillows after a thought (a big, fluffy white pillow) and hastily transfigured it into one of those child-holder strap-thing… whatever it was that strapped the child to your chest. He couldn't remember the name of it, but James… James had had one…

His chest tightened, and Harry started bawling his eyes out as Sirius woke him up, putting him in that strap-thing. He shrunk the shopping bag that he'd bought yesterday (shrunk it and all it's luggage that had been thrown in there) and shoved it into his pocket.

Harry's dinner from the night before (a few hours ago? minutes? days?) lay on the floor where he'd left it, the spoon thrown a few feet from the slosh.

He ran past the kitchen, and threw the door open.

Fuck.

If his hair caught fire, he was going to hunt down whichever Death Eater _'son-of-a-bitch'_ decided to play with this particular muggle hotel.

He swore he had the worst luck. _Out of all the hotels…._

Fire was creeping along the walls, occupants were screaming, banging on doors, a small old woman raced past him, toward the staircase… whether magical or muggle in it's existence, it didn't nothing to qualm his fears. A sudden sense of unease enveloped him.

He forgot Harry's emergency portkey in the seat of his motorbike.

Sirius spun on his heel, heading the opposite way of the stairs – he needed to head up, to the roof, if there were Death Eaters they'd be down, playing, toying with the muggles trying to escape the fire, escape their immediate death…

He felt sick to his stomach as the crusted brown carpet squealed against his sneakered feet.

The flames licked at the door of room 354, he paused at the screams, a soft unlocking charm sent the door swinging open, the man raced out of the room without a _'hello'_, the burns on his hand indicating the overly hot metal of the door knob.

Sirius made a mental note not to touch any metal. At all. Ever again.

Turning to continue, he stumbled as the hairs stood up at the back of his head, an eerily familiar green light passing within inches (close, too close) to his face.

He swallowed heavily as a burst of anger and confusion engulfed him as he met his cousins' eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Haha! Another Chapter! Wrote this all last night. It isn't the greatest, and I'm no good at fight scenes, so I kinda skimmed over it a bit, just a summary, I know it isn't the greatest, but any reviews or suggestions or whatever would really be helpful. Thank you!**

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Ducking another soft green curse, he ran further in the hall, quickly shouting a simple banishing charm, and watching as the flames in front of him suddenly moved behind him, his cousin leaping quickly riding the hotel of them.

The carpet squeaked beneath him, and horrified, he leaped, dodging another _crucio_, ignoring the taunting voice _"little Siri miss his little Jamsie?", _and watched as bits of the carpet seemed to go concave… the floor falling in, holes –

"_Gah_!" He narrowly missed a jet of purple flames billowing toward him from one of the open holes in the floor, the carpet falling limply to the floor below in ashes, and another killing curse flew by his left ear.

She was taunting him, playing with him…

"C'mon Bella!" He cried out hoarsely, trying to ignore the tightening in his chest, the smoke billowing around them like mad. "I know you can fight better then this!" Another banishing charm had her fighting through another torrent of flames and he could hear the banging from an adjacent door stop as he continued onward, screams mixing in the air, Harry no longer crying, sniffling, instead, the jostling no doubt keeping him awake…

A quick _reducto_ had Bellatrix stumbling, and he rammed into the nearby door and –

… Sirius sighed softly, fluffing up several pillows around the sleeping child to use as a makeshift cradle.

Thankfully, Harry hadn't had much smoke inhalation at all, Sirius presumed it was having his face shoved into his godfathers old stuffy shirt that had prevented most of the smoke from entering the child's body, either that, or accidental magic. Either way, Sirius was relieved.

And oddly scared. He hadn't yet found out _how_ the death eaters had found them (he was sure that they had, Bellatrix had definitely recognized him, and toyed with him… she hadn't killed him… that, and he didn't want to believe that his luck was actually _that_ bad…). _And_, to top it all off, he'd just proven Lily right – he hadn't even _thought_ of using a bubble head charm at all until _after_ his _idiotic_ escape.

He could've gotten Harry killed.

And, to top it all off, he wasn't even sure that jumping off from the 13th floor was the greatest idea, and using magic (in front of muggles no less) to soften the fall was stupid. Running like hell – probably the greatest idea he'd ever had in his life. Even more so than that time he'd managed to give all the Slytherins red hair.

But, now, the ministry would probably be after his tail. Fun.

And Harry was snug, wrapped up several times in order for Sirius to be sure that he wouldn't fall out of the twin sized bed in this new hotel. It wasn't quite as nice as the first one. It was just one twin sized bed, a couch, and a television. The bathroom was down the hall – communal.

It wasn't cheap either, but it was the best he could get short notice.

"Jeeze Hare," he said softly, running his hand through his godsons hair, the expression that both he and Remus had picked up from Lily easily flowing off his tongue, "Now what?"

Harry didn't answer, merely shifted slightly in his sleep, not moving away from his godfathers touch.

A stab of guilt pierced him. The kid was tired, and Sirius couldn't help but blame himself, all the jostling and hurrying that he'd done within the last twenty four hours… he, of course, ignored the fact that if he hadn't taken him, Harry most likely would've died with his parents…

_Why_? He didn't know. And frankly, he didn't care. As long as Harry was alive and well, nothing else mattered.

He could contemplate the reason that Voldemort for some reason or another (or so it seemed) wanted the kid dead later, along with when he thought on the meaning of life, and what happened after you died, if you had a soul or not –

He could think on that later, but now…

They'd leave in the morning.

Sirius would leave his baby here over night, left open for the world to see. His motorcycle would be the first way that the ministry would track him, and it was much too easy to track him down with the girl – she had a good run, but it was most likely how the death eaters had found him… if they were looking for him at all.

He'd already unpacked his bike, taking everything he'd need out from under the seat, and placed the shrunken packages in the pocket of his leather jacket. Harry was currently sleeping with the grim-like stuffed animal.

James had roared with laughter when he first saw it, and (not to be outdone) had gone out and bought the boy a gigantic stuffed stag. At least, it had been gigantic until Lily chewed his ear off about how it was too big and he had to shrink it.

He'd spent the next day moping.

But, of course, all good things must come to an end, and he couldn't mope any more, Sirius couldn't gloat any longer…

He maneuvered his hand out of Harry's hair, the delicate tangles wrapping around his fingers.

Harry shifted in his sleep once again.

Quietly, as to not wake him, he lifted the child out of the recently made cradle, the hotels blanket wrapped firmly around the boy as he placed him at the crook of his arm, rocking him slowly as he struggled to carry his jacket.

He realized seconds too late that he should've put his jacket on first.

But he quietly threw it over his shoulder, making sure none of his shrunken items fell out of the pockets, and taking the grim-like dog off the bed and shoving it beneath his arm, slowly making his way towards the door.

He'd leave now. Leave a trail. He was supposed to stay in this room for the next few days, but it couldn't hurt to leave early. To pick up and go.

Harry probably wouldn't notice the difference in hotels – he'd want his own bedroom back either way. And, this way, he wouldn't have to deal with anyone complaining that he made the bathroom smell funny, not like he could stop the influx of dirty diapers.

There was an Inn a couple streets over that he could go to for the night before starting to trek further away. It was small, cozy, and not at all boring like that last drab hotel room.

And the landlady was sweet. She gave him treats last time he had to stay there while on an undercover mission.

Then again… maybe he should just hide away… he'd heard that Brazil was nice this time of year.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, this chapter isn't really anything special, I'm half-way through the next chapter already, so hopefully I'll have this updated again soon. And Harry will definitely be older - I'm thinking around 10 years old, give or take. So it'll be a time jump. Sorry for the wait in getting this chapter out, I've been lazy.**

**And now, without further ado, I'll post this up, hide away, take a "break" from the sociology essay I'm supposed to be writing and read some fanfiction... I really need to finish that essay, it's due tomorrow...**

**So, read, review, hugs and kisses and cookies - and I don't own Harry Potter.**

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Unfortunately, his plan, to flee to Brazil, adopt a new name, and hide his godson in the deepest corner of the earth away from Voldemort, Dumbledore, and the Ministry, failed.

Not that he really thought that it would work to begin with. It was more of a _Plan B_ that would never work since they had Ministry workers all over Europe (and most likely the world) checking all wizards that had boarded planes and arrived in their country.

It'd be a one way ticket to Azkaban.

And there was no way to achieve the move through legal means without Voldemort or Dumbledore finding the paper trail that he left behind.

He'd rather _not_ be branded a traitor to whoever found him.

If they found him.

It'd probably be better if he just hid.

That little old lady down in the kitchen probably wouldn't mind, she seemed uncannily excited at having such a late house guest and gladly welcomed her former visitor _'Jamie White and his son'_ with welcome arms.

It scared him.

He was fairly sure that she was making chocolate chip cookies as of this very moment. And Harry, who was currently playing with his toy version of Padfoot, would be sure to want one. Sirius couldn't very well say no, but who's to say that that old lady wasn't going to poison them?

The Black heir paused at that thought. It was when you started to suspect nice people of murder when you realized that training under Mad-Eye Moody screwed with your mind.

Might as well just try to forget that part of training… maybe.

It wasn't like he was becoming as paranoid as Mad-Eye… it _isn't_ paranoia if everyone really _is_ out to get you, right? Maybe?

Who knows?

Might as well just push that argument to the back of his mind to contemplate some other time.

Harry squirmed before him, catching his attention as he dropped the stuffed animal to the ground. "Harry?" He kneeled beside the child, his question hanging unanswered in the air, as the boy made a face, "Har–" and the answer came to him, in the form of a rather pungent scent.

He wrinkled his nose as the boy suddenly giggled. "Right," he muttered picking up the 15 month old. "Right."

But the boy tried to squirm as he held him at arms length, attempting to get a better view of his guardian as Sirius maneuvered the door open with his foot. After several failed attempts while walking down the hallway, the boy stopped, his lip quivered, and a soft "Ma?" escaped his mouth. Sirius froze, guilt squeezing his chest, as he stared at the boy.

The thoughts he'd tried to keep at bay unconsciously invaded his mind, and he forced down a sob, pulling the boy close to him as he stumbled over towards the wall, towards something solid. He sank down next to the wall, dirty nappy forgotten. "Ma can't come," he whispered softly, placing a kiss to the top of the boys head. "Ma and Da love you very much, very very much."

He forced down another sob, his eyes felt itchy, and his throat felt much too large… Harry pulled at a large chunk of his hair, suitably distracted from his missing parents.

"Dirty nappy," he suddenly said with a small chuckle at the toddler, "forgot, sorry."

Sirius stood up, swaying slightly on his feet, before stumbling into the bathroom just a door down to his right; his feet padded loudly on the hard wood floors, so different from the previous hotels bland carpets…

He set Harry down onto the floor. He'd asked the woman to put his extra nappies in the room… and they were located just under the sink – thankfully, he'd rather not have to search high and low for diapers.

Harry was getting fussy as was.

"We'll leave tomorrow," Sirius said, attempting to forget that he was talking to a toddler. He remembered Lily saying something about talking to babies helps their learning capabilities or something like that. Lily used to talk to Harry every moment that she could, going as far as to count each step that she would walk up while on her way to the nursery with Harry in her arms.

Harry had just started to (attempt to) count along with her.

"We've got to find another place to stay," _along with a plan on how we're going to hide, where we're going to hide, who is attempting to find us, why they want to find us_… There were too many questions and variables that Sirius didn't have, and didn't want to even contemplate.

He blinked, stared down at the child, suddenly wondering if he really had changed the diaper, but the soft smell emitting from the trash can hidden in the crevice between the sink and the wall pointed toward that he did change it. He must been going insane, Sirius decided decisively, he didn't even remember changing Harry's nappy.

Then again, James did the same thing; he'd work himself into the ground, come home change Harry's nappy, forget he did it, and then do it again. Sirius used to laugh his ass off every time James did that. He managed to work himself into such a frenzy that he believed that Harry had stopped pooping all together.

It took Lily, Remus, and Sirius himself to convince James that Harry wasn't about to die from not going poo.

It was a rather awkward conversation with Lily blandly saying words like 'poo' and 'pee' and 'wiener' while Remus tried to toe around the words (the subject all together really) and Sirius making things ten times worse by asking questions.

Needless to say, it didn't help James calm down any.

"What am I going to do with you?" He asked the child quietly, but the boy merely grinned up at him, chewing on his fingers slightly as he sat on the cold, porcelain floor.

A soft cry of _"cookies"_ distracted Sirius as Harry began chanting his warped version of the word cookie for the world to hear.

Sirius twitched, fingered his wand and glared at the door silently, before sighing and moving towards the child, picking him up quickly. The woman wouldn't poison them… He was being paranoid… Moody screwed with people's minds… might as well just eat the Merlin-damned cookies…

He sincerely hoped that he didn't screw up Harry's mind if he had to raise him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, so this chapter is slightly longer (the last one wasn't my greatest I know, I'll probably try to go back and toy with it), but this weekend, I was surprisingly free, so I had some time to play with this chapter. And Harry's only three, so it was a bit of a time jump. And he'll definitely still be three years old in the next chapter. **

**Thanks, and, once again, I don't own Harry Potter.**

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Sirius twisted the curtains before him nervously as he peered out the window. They'd been in this apartment for around a month now, it was in a largely populated area, in the hopes that they would be able to blend in easily with the surrounding muggles.

The last time Sirius came across the ministry aurors at least taught Sirius a quick lesson. He now knew that they _were_ actively looking for him. Apparently, he was the "betrayer" – he was (apparently) giving ministry secrets, which he'd learned during his time as an auror, to Voldemort. Where they came up with that idea, he didn't know. Because, _obviously_, no other ministry employee could be a spy. It has to be _Black_.

All in all it had been a nice little reunion with Dawlish.

And really, Sirius shouldn't have thought himself above protection wards. They were defenseless as of now, and Remus was outside. Walking, just walking, they _did_ live near the marketplace, but Remus, was still outside the house.

He fingered his wand, snapping the curtain shut, and stepped back a few paces. It wouldn't do for Remus to catch him due to the werewolf glancing over and seeing his face peering out of the window.

It would have been way too anti-climatic.

"_Siri!_" and Harry wouldn't have been able to shut up either way.

Sirius sighed, slowly stowing his wand and making his way to the kitchen. "Yes Hare?" he asked, exasperated. The people lied. People said, time and time again that the 'terrible twos' were horrible, but afterwards, your child will be a complete and utter angel. They lied. Harry was an adorable two year-old. As of now, at three years old, the only thing stopping Sirius from strangling the child was his bright emerald green puppy dog eyes.

But Harry stared up at him, his lower lip trembling in the tell tale sign that something wasn't going his way and a stab of guilt washed through Sirius as the boy stared up at him through watery green eyes. He never should have had homicidal thoughts about his poor little baby. "I wanna cookie," he said.

Sirius swept the guilt away rather quickly. "Boo," he said fondly, not able to keep the amusement out of his tone as he walked forward. The boy had managed to muse with his overalls straps so that they were twisted out of proportion, his orange shirt ruffled and wrinkled underneath and the sneakers untied on his feet. Harry had a strange desire to dress himself everyday – he still hadn't managed to understand the concept of right shoe goes on right foot yet. "You don't want to ruin your lunch."

He struggled slightly attempting to straighten his overalls as the boy squirmed, "Cookie," Harry managed to insist as Sirius gave it up for a bad job and unclipped the strap before straightening it out and redoing it with the next.

Harry fumbled with the newly fixed straps, abandoning his 'cookie' crusade in order to give his outfit a critical once over before looking back over at Sirius.

"No cookie," Sirius said, picking him up, and placing him onto one of the old kitchen chairs.

Thankfully this apartment had come with furniture already in it, it wasn't cheap, but for a month or two, it was worth it. And Harry loved the park down the street, not too far from the market actually.

"Why?"

Taking a deep breath, Sirius managed to repress his groan of frustration, pushing the thoughts of Remus being in town out of his mind. He did _not_ want to start this again. "Because I said so," he said finally.

Harry, obviously anticipating this answer, responded with the ever prevalent, "Why?"

"Because lunch is in an hour and you can have a cookie then."

"Why?"

"You don't want a cookie with lunch then?" Sirius gasped, holding a hand up to his heart as Harry suddenly looked, rather constipated actually, at the mere thought. "I suppose that I can eat that poor, poor cookie that has been just thrown aside as if it were noth–"

"But I wan' the cookie!" Harry cried out, overriding his godfather, "can I 'ave a cookie wit' lunch? Can I? Can I? Can I?"

Sirius plopped down onto the chair beside the one he'd set Harry on just as Harry jumped off, his black hair bouncing as the boy practically jumped up and down, not willing to give up his snack that went along with his lunch. And Sirius, enjoying the display, rubbed his chin in thought. "I don't know…" he said, grinning at the child's horrified look as he began pulling on his godfathers shirt sleeve, "I suppose you could," he said slowly, "if you tell me the magic word?"

"Mischief Managed?" Harry asked with surprising clarity, but Sirius shook his head. "Pretty, pretty please with sprinkles and lemons and rainbows and bunnies on top?"

Sirius grinned, "You had me at pretty kid."

Harry did his own little jig that seemed oddly reminiscent of Sirius' dances whenever he managed to answer a _Jeopardy_ question right or managed to finish a cross word puzzle without any help.

"Come on you little Poltergeist," Sirius said, easily picking Harry up by the arms and swinging onto his hip with practiced ease as he stopped the boy's little dance. The term of endearment, although Harry didn't question it, was a new one. After calling the boy 'Boo' for the better part of a year, combined with the fact that the terrible two's were a lie and the three's were horrible, Sirius came to the conclusion that Harry acted like a Poltergeist, and, therefore, should be called one. Harry didn't complain, so Sirius saw no reason to stop. "We've got to get ready for our picnic, don't we?"

"Uh huh," Harry nodded his head, looking eerily like a bobble-headed doll for all of a second before squirming to be put down. "Can I 'ave a cookie _now_?" He asked after a pause.

Sirius sighed, "No," he said simply.

"But I wan' one," the raven-haired child said firmly, giving up on his struggles to give him a half-hearted pout as he buried his head in his godfather's shoulder.

"So do I," the man said simply, pushing both chairs in and walking into the living room, "I would love a cookie for all intents and purposes" (and he'd probably have been eating one now if he didn't have a three year old running around that he had to look after – Sirius had notoriously bad eating habits).

Casting a weary eye at the closed curtains that he'd only just been staring out of, Sirius felt a lump in his throat. It'd been almost two years since he'd last seen Remus. To put it simply the man looked horrible. His clothes were ragged and there seemed to be a new scare across his face, but without Sirius and James to help him through his transformations, it probably made it ten times worse. And Sirius wouldn't be surprised if the anti-werewolf propaganda was floating through the wizarding world once again.

The war had probably escalated in the two years that Sirius had been hiding in blissful oblivion.

"_Si_," Harry demanded, pulling at his hair to get his attention.

Scowling slightly, Sirius pushed his hair behind his ear, it was getting long again. "No pulling my hair," he told him firmly. He did not have girl's hair. No matter what Harry said. Just cause it was long and more than likely pulled in a ponytail – it didn't matter. It _wasn't_ girl's hair.

"Down."

Sirius dutifully placed the boy on the floor and allowed him to race across the room to the door with a piece of paper that had _Harry_ written on it painstakingly in a child's writing. Harry had written it only day's ago when he asked Sirius how to spell his name. It'd taken him hours before he could get it right.

He chuckled and followed the boys lead into the room. It was small, blue, without very many decorations besides the stars that Sirius had charmed to twinkle above his bed. It wasn't as good as Lily's old charm in the nursery, nor was it _nearly_ as good as the ceiling in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but Harry loved it all the same, and insisted on having the charm up in every room he stayed in.

He managed to become completely enraptured with astronomy incredibly quickly, and nearly convinced Sirius that he was going to be an astronaut soon or die trying.

Needless to say, Sirius was torn between having a mini-heart-attack and dying of laughter.

"Pah," he said, too lazy to even shorten his name to Pads, shortening it even further to 'pah' – not that Sirius could complain. "I can' fin' it…"

"What're you lookin' for Boo?"

"Padfoot," he said with surprising clarity once again. He always did take a strange interest in the Marauders. But Sirius knew what the boy was talking about. He watched the boy scuttle over to the overturned toy chest, only a few toys resided in there, they never had enough time or money to pack and save each toy they picked up, but Padfoot…

Kneeling, Sirius glanced under the bed. With a roll of his eyes, the shuffled forwards, closer to the bed, not even bothering to get up off his knees before be pushed his hand underneath, felt around, and pulled the stuffed black grim that they've had since day one.

"Harry?" Sirius asked, holding out his peace offering.

Harry squealed excitedly, running up and pulling the black grim out of his likenesses hands and chatting inane things to the animal about his day and where they were going. Taking this as a sign that Harry wouldn't mind getting man-handled at the moment, and he picked the boy up and placed him onto the bed. A small rocket soared across the comforter.

He took both of the boys shoes off (they were on the wrong feet any way) and took off the boys socks. Harry put them on inside out again. And, slipping the sock back on, he placed the boy's right foot into the right shoe before following with the left foot. They'd go over this lesson again another day – he already knew that Harry wouldn't even bother attempting to listen to whatever he had to say.

"Why don't you go wash your hands Boo?" He asked, interrupting the boy's ramblings to his stuffed animal. "Then we can get going."

"Alrigh'," Harry said. His speech was still slurred slightly, but it was getting better by the day. He managed to talk more and more, expanding his vocabulary with each passing week. Sirius was sure that Harry could give other three year olds a run for their money in the speaking department.

Of course, that could just be the proud godfather in him talking.

When he wasn't planning the best way to murder the boy and get away with it without feeling guilty.

Harry smiled at him, jumping off the bed, his shoes padding against the floor as he walked to the bathroom. Sirius eyed him wearily, he was being far too complacent, but (he very nearly shivered) at least he wasn't going back to his 'no phase' which he still hadn't grown out of. But it was on and off (thankfully or unthankfully, take your pick), one moment he'd follow your instructions to the tee, the next, he'd be screaming about how he didn't want to. It got real old, real fast.

He walked over to the set of drawers beside the bed, snorting at the mess that Harry seemed to make. With a flick of his wand, each of the shirts that Harry had tossed to the floor flew back into their rightful places, folding themselves in the air while on their way back to the dresser.

Harry never could keep a room clean for more than an hour.

Before an old West Hams hat could make its way to the dresser, Sirius grabbed it out of thin air, and pulled it back to him, and shut the drawers with a flick of his wrist.

If Remus was wandering around town, Harry had better wear a hat. That messy head of his screamed James Potter if nothing else.

He strolled out of the room; the hat clutched in his hands, and grinned once he saw his godson scramble out of the bathroom only a few feet away from him. He plopped the hat onto his head snuggly as he passed him, and lifted him up before he could say a word, and nearly groaned once he realized Harry put that orange shirt of his on inside out. Again.

Oh well, Sirius thought idly, no one would notice anyway.

"Want to help me with the lunches?" Sirius asked, anticipating the –

"No."

"I'll give you a free cookie," he said, reaching to the cupboard above the stove, grabbing the box of chocolate chip cookies and waggling them in front of the child's eyes.

Harry had opened his mouth, most likely to continue his crusade of rebellion, before closing it. He could either refuse to help, or get a cookie… "Cookie," he decided after a moments pause.

Sirius made a grand gesture, pulling a cookie from its confines in the box to dramatically sweep it out in front of him, holding it out to the boy as if it were the Holy Grail. "Since you're helping," Sirius said, once Harry had shoved the cookie in his mouth, "you get to choose what we eat today."

"Pea'ut Butter?" Harry asked, swallowing the remains of his snack.

"Peanut Butter sandwiches it is," Sirius said, knowing Harry's aversion to jam.

He put the box of cookies on the counter (out of Harry's reach, he knew how that kid's mind worked), and went back to the cupboard to grab the jar of peanut butter. "Want green chips with the sandwiches Boo?" Sirius asked, already knowing the answer. It was a rare day that Sirius allowed him to eat two snacks with his lunch.

And true to his thoughts, Harry nodded his head in excitement, following the man eagerly as he walked over to the muggle refrigerator. Sirius lifted the boy up with a grunt and held him up to the fridge. Harry always wanted to help get the food down from the top of the fridge, but could never reach. Of course, this led to Sirius having to pick him up each time they needed bread, but it was a small price to pay. "Don't forget the bread Boo," Sirius said, snickering slightly as Harry pulled the bag of Sour Cream and Onion chips down, ignoring the loaf of white bread they had stacked up there.

Harry's hand flew up again, snagging the bread and pulling to his chest alongside the bag of potato chips.

"Alright then," he said, making sure that the hat was still snug on his face. "Ready?"

"Uh huh."

And with that, Sirius set the boy back down onto the floor, moving to the drawers to draw a butter knife out and the lunch boxes that he'd bought last month once Harry began begging to go eat outside.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want jelly?" Sirius asked, grinning as he pulled two soda's out of the refrigerator. He would probably regret letting the kid eat so much junk food and sugar later, but for now, might as well try to get his mind off of the fact that there was a werewolf in town and the only thing protecting them was a football hat… speaking of which, Sirius should probably try to find his own hat somewhere…

Harry, unaware of his godfather's thoughts, quickly shook his head, nearly upsetting the hat fit snug on his head.

Sirius straightened it absentmindedly as he went about making the sandwiches.

"I don' wan' crusts." Harry implored, before he could move to put them in the plastic baggies. Sirius nodded, cut the crusts off and waved his hand over the knife. It flew into the sink.

Harry grinned.

"You already Boo?" Sirius asked, more on technicality than anything as Harry had already grabbed the packed lunches and raced to the door, jiggling with the doorknob.

Sirius summoned his own West Ham hat (thankful that there _was_ a game on later that night), and shoved it onto his own head, shortening his hair with a quick glamour. Harry gave him a strange look to which he just shrugged and smiled, grasping the boy's hand before opening the door.

He didn't want a repeat of last time he opened the door without first making sure that Harry wouldn't try to run away or do anything stupid. The boy was nearly out the door before he even realized what had happened.

This time Sirius squeezed Harry's hand once, as if to be sure that the boy was still there, and resisted the temptation to race back inside and lock the door and never leave... but he couldn't let that fear dictate his life, and Remus being in town couldn't force the two of them to hide out in their living room for the afternoon...

Swallowing heavily, he allowed Harry to pull him out the door.


End file.
